


Crumbling Armor

by RelicIron



Series: Cross-faction Fraternization [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blaster burns, Bruises, Chiss (Star Wars), First Kiss, In the Rishi Safehouse, Lana's there in another room, Little bit of Fluff, M/M, Theron's POV, Treatment of injuries, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RelicIron/pseuds/RelicIron
Summary: Two wounded spy boys taking care of each other.





	Crumbling Armor

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in the Rishi safehouse, after The Battle of Rishi flashpoint.

Their first kiss tastes like blood.

Granted that was mostly Theron's fault.

Or really it was Lana's fault he was in that condition, with the whole "letting him be captured" thing, which he _still_ hasn't entirely forgiven her for.

It was after their tension filled meeting with Darth Marr and Master Satele, that Theron finally had a moment to sit and breathe.

Aaaand be uncomfortably reminded of just how much pain he was in.

He grimaced.

Considering how fast everything had been moving, he hadn't had time to patch himself up. Hell, he hadn't even checked how bad it was.

All he knew was that pretty much everything hurt and his head had started throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

So, you know, a Tuesday.

A chair was pulled out, and someone sat down in front of him. He didn't need to look up, he recognized the armored boots, even when they were coated in dirt with bits of grass stuck in the knee hinges.

"You don't look well."

If the boots hadn't done it, that low, accented croak would have.

"Understatement of the year," he said tiredly, looking up at the Agent.

He was watching him passively, at least Theron was pretty sure he was, it was hard to tell sometimes with Chiss. Those solid red eyes were notoriously hard to track.

The Agent cocked his head, and frowned faintly, "Did you see to your wounds?"

Theron huffed.

Observant bastard.

"No, I....haven't really gotten around to it."

The frown deepened.

"I was going to! But you know, things happened."

"Yes, they are known for doing that," the Agent drawled, giving him a dry look.

The Chiss got up then, and walked over to retrieve the med kit.

"Hey, I don't need you babying me!"

He sat back down and began to fish out the appropriate supplies, the corner of his mouth twitching up, "Evidently you do."

"I can do it myself, you don't need to-"

"A trade then."

Theron stopped, confused.

The Agent continued, "I took a hit during that push to reach the signal jammer. My armor took the brunt of it, but it burned my side before the heat could dissipate. If you hold still and let me help you, I would appreciate your assistance in treating it."

Theron looked him up and down. The man didn't seem hurt, just as calm and aloof as usual, but there _was_ a hole burned in his jacket.

Theron sighed.

"Deal."

He nodded, and began to help Theron out of his jacket and shirt.

The Agent was quick and efficient as usual, but it still gave the SIS operative a chance to observe him.

He'd never seen him this close.

The cool blue of his skin was more purple than the last time Theron had seen it, especially across his cheeks and nose. His cover generator must have overheated, and scorched his face.

Still, the flush to his cheeks was pretty.

He blinked, then silently recalibrated his implants. The ache his rattled tech caused was a welcome distraction.

The Agent was **not** pretty.

He was dangerous.

So much so that the standing SIS orders for encounters with him were a strict "Do Not Engage!"

His confirmed kill list was longer than Theron's arm, and-

Ah, who was he kidding.

The bastard was unfairly attractive, and so far he'd been nothing but polite. He had a dry sense of humor and his voice _did_ things to Theron.

And then there was this...thing...between them.

The flirting was fun, probably a bad idea considering they were spies on opposite sides of a war, but fun all the same. He wasn't even sure the agent's interest was real, or just some play for information.

The sting of a kolto injection brought him back to the present.

"There you are."

The Agent put the applicator down before turning back to Theron.

"Any other injuries I'm unaware of?"

"No, I'm good," he paused, "I...guess it's your turn now."

He nodded, shrugged off his jacket, then started on the buckles holding his chest plate in place.

Unsure of what he should do with himself, Theron helped him with the straps.

The plate came off, then the synth-leather cuirass underneath it, before Theron started to see concerning signs.

There was a damp area on the Agent's undershirt, just above his hip on his right side. As Theron tried to peel it off, it quickly became clear that the fabric had melted onto his skin.

"Shit, and you we worried about _me_ taking care of myself!"

The Agent had the grace so look slightly sheepish, but said nothing as Theron went about separating shirt from flesh.

It was a long, slow process, and Theron had no idea how the Agent could still look so unaffected.

Pain-inhibiting implants were pretty standard for high-level field agents, but even with top of the line tech, he was sure this was painful.

As more and more of the burn was revealed, Theron's face settled further into a scowl.

Just when was this bastard going to tell them he had an injury like this?!

Theron's bruises were painful, sure, but a burn this size and intensity was dangerous!

And he'd been completely composed during the meeting, standing at parade rest and speaking in the same calm, level voice as always.

He had the distinct feeling that the Agent never would have told anyone if Theron hadn't put up such a fight about his own injuries.

He wanted to yell at him for being so stubborn.

Once he finally got the ruined shirt off, Theron was left with a wound the size of his head.

The skin in the middle had been burnt away, leaving raw pink flesh open to the air. Boils had already swollen (and burst thanks to Theron having to tear the melted shirt off) in a ring around the worst area, bathing the wound and the skin around it in fluid. Cerulean blue, to angry purple, to shocked pink.

Theron swallowed his anger, he could chew the idiot out later, right now he need to focus on being gentle.

He cleaned the area as best he could, before covering it in a liberal amount of kolto cream and securing a sterile bandage over it with medical tape.

It was the best they could do with the their current supplies.

"You really should take some painkillers too, if that thing hurts half as bad as it looks."

Theron went to straighten up but a hand found his arm and he looked up to see the Agent was....a lot closer than he had thought he was.

He was caught in those red eyes. The med kit and angry tirade, forgotten.

There was something soft there, almost vulnerable.

Like he was seeing through a crack in the Agent's armor, to the tired, injured man beneath.

Theron was leaning in before he realized it, but so was the man before him.

They met in the middle, a tentative brush of lips, a soft inhalation, before pressing in again. Surer. Harder. And Theron could hardly feel the sting of his split lip.

The long fingered hand on Theron's arm slid up to rest against the side of his neck and brush a thumb along his jaw.

They parted, retreating just a bit. Just enough so they could see each other properly.

That crack seemed a bit wider now, a flicker of trust blooming in eyes gone impossibly soft.

How had Theron ever thought those eyes were emotionless.

He opened his mouth to say.....something.

"I hope you two are getting ready, I doubt we have much time to dawdle. We're needed on Yavin 4 as soon as possible."

Lana's call from the other room startled them both, and when Theron looked back, that stoic facade was back in place.

The Agent cleared his throat, "Thank you, for your assistance." The lavender sunburn on his cheeks seemed darker.

Theron smiled, trying not to let his disappointment show, "Anytime, Agent."

The Chiss nodded before getting up and walking over to his bag on the floor. Probably to dig out another shirt, Theron thought, before he was distracted by the lean muscle stretching across his back.

Shaking himself, he tried to hide his blushing face as he packed up the med kit. Wouldn't want Lana to walk in and see him red as a Pureblood.

He almost didn't catch it, when the Agent muttered something over his shoulder.

"We've been working together long enough, you may as well call me Jet."

Theron blinked.

Huh.

"Uh, sure thing....Jet."

The small, pleased smile he gave in return made Theron feel warm, and really didn't help with his blushing situation.

Still, he thought, maybe he found a way passed his armor after all.


End file.
